


Goodnight, Bad Morning

by carameldumpling



Category: Gossip Girl
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-24
Updated: 2011-04-24
Packaged: 2017-10-18 15:02:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/190112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carameldumpling/pseuds/carameldumpling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nate whines and snuggles into Chuck. “Five minutes.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Goodnight, Bad Morning

**Author's Note:**

> Posted on LJ - 17 September 2010.

It’s the perfect, foolproof way to start a day. 

After years of circling around, flirting, angsting and basically dating everyone in their social circle except each other and Dan Humphrey, Chuck and Nate had finally given in to temptation and had the most amazing sex Chuck has had in a while. Nate is all innocent blue eyes and wide smile, but let him rut against a thigh long enough without allowing him respite and he starts getting so perfectly slutty Chuck almost blows his load even before any clothes are off. 

So of course when Chuck wakes up to find Nate snuggled under the sheets – yes,  _snuggled_  – and dead to the world, he figures that the best way to wake up his beautiful boy is to give him a hell of a blowjob. Chuck himself appreciates being woken up to hot, wet, suction, and has yet to find a man who doesn’t like morning blowjobs. 

He’s got the entire scenario in his head: He’ll slide down, get between Nate’s legs and tease him a little, and Nate will squirm in his sleep. Then he’ll wait for Nate to settle, make Nate’s brain think that everything is back to normal, then he’ll start sucking his cock like a Hoover, only with more spit involved, because messy blowjobs are always the best. 

Nate will make those confused, aroused whines that he loves and he’ll toss and turn a little in bed, but Chuck will hold him down, and Nate’ll wake up exactly when he chooses to show off his amazing skills and deep-throat him. The result is one Nathaniel Archibald in the throes of orgasm and Chuck Bass smirking, satisfied, as he swallows cum from that gorgeous dick pulsing in his mouth. 

The reality is anything but. 

The sheets are thick, making it difficult for him to slither downwards without jostling Nate. He gets stuck somewhere near Nate’s abs twice, unable to kick through the thick cotton. The first time he tries to part Nate’s legs, he’s probably a little too rough because Nate growls – a little adorably, but still – and curls up tighter. Chuck half expects him to stick his thumb in his mouth. By the time he’s managed to coax the legs of a still sleeping Nate apart, he’s sweating underneath the sheets. 

No one said that seduction was easy. 

Chuck feels a sense of triumph when he comes face to face with his target. Nate’s dick was flaccid earlier on, but now it seems slightly interested, half-hard, and still covered in Nate’s cum from a round at two in the morning when Chuck woke up with this burning urge to fuck. He tentatively leans down to lick, tongue flat against the hot flesh, and Nate sniffs. 

Well, that won’t do. No one gets Chuck Bass’ tongue on their dick and has that kind of a reaction. So Chuck decides to go all out and swallow half of Nate’s dick. 

The results are disastrous.

Chuck happily begins sucking, closing his eyes as he feels the familiar weight on his tongue and zoning out from the rest of the world. It’s probably why he doesn’t hear Nate’s wheeze, doesn’t see the frown form on Nate’s face, and definitely is not prepared for Nate’s right foot slamming into his face and shoving him away from his cock.

He’s still reeling in shock as he watches Nate roll over on his stomach, keeping his cock safe from Chuck’s mouth. Nate snuffles and snores. 

Chuck feels the beginning of an amazing bruise form on his cheek.

Well, fuck. 

: : :

Nate doesn’t seem to remember that he violently protested to Chuck giving him what could have been the blowjob of a lifetime while sleeping. He pads into the living room in his skimpy black boxers well past noon and grins sleepily. 

Chuck looks up from The New York Times as Nate looms over him. “Good morning, Nate.”

“Mmmmmm,” Nate hums as he clumsily plucks the newspaper out of Chuck’s hands and climbs onto his lap. 

Chuck raises an eyebrow. “Yes, caveman, how can I help you?”

Nate smiles the smile that has melted the hearts of women, and some men, all over the world. “Breakfast?” he asks hopefully. 

“You mean lunch,” Chuck says dryly. “Coffee’s in the pot, grab whatever you want in the fridge.” 

“Kay,” Nate says absently as he unbuttons Chuck’s Armani pants. 

Nate rides him until he’s over-sensitive, and leaves Chuck sweaty and panting in his armchair to go make a bowl of cereal. 

: : :

Every Monday, without fail, Chuck will meet Serena and Blair at the Student Union café at three in the afternoon. It started out as a chance meeting, now it’s to catch up with the two girls that have always been in his life, good times and bad. 

As he nears the table, he hears Serena bemoan about her latest argument with her latest boyfriend. Daryl Halevy, whom Chuck can’t have a civil conversation with and whom Blair wants to punch in the face, is a philosophy major who has a major case of douche face. He smokes cannabis – he insists that everyone around him uses the correct terms of all the drugs; the only thing Chuck can conclude is  _douche_  – and refuses to drink wine from France, which makes things really difficult for everyone when they go out for dinner. Serena, being Serena, wants to improve relations on both ends (apparently Daryl isn’t too taken with Chuck, and only tolerates Blair because she has breasts), but it’s so Serena to end up with tons of relationship issues, so Chuck isn’t surprised that they actually had an argument two weeks into the relationship. 

What he is surprised about is the context of the argument. From what he’s hearing, Serena is complaining about how Daryl apparently played a Justin Bieber song when they were about to have sex. Serena thought it was a joke, and only realised that Daryl was serious when he took off her dress without changing the song. Then they had an argument about how none of Justin Bieber’s songs are appropriate to make love to. 

The look on Blair’s face tells him she’s torn between laughing and calling Serena an idiot for even allowing a Justin Bieber CD into the house. 

It’s Serena that spots him first, while gesturing wildly about how Daryl went into a mad rampage when she said that Justin Bieber was not a ‘serious artist’. She immediately stops her rant and gasps. “Oh god, Chuck, what happened to your face?”

Blair looks alarmed as he takes a seat, eyes searching. The bruise that Chuck thought was going to form? It was definitely a bruise. It was a large bruise that spanned his left cheek, part of his nose and the parts near his eye. Thankfully, it wasn’t a foot-shaped bruise, so he wouldn’t look like the product of a domestic argument. 

“Walked into a wall this morning,” he says smoothly. “I was too tired.”

Serena looks upset, before she smiles cheekily. “Nate kept you up, huh.”

Chuck smirks. “I think it’s the other way round.”

Blair rolls her eyes and Serena cackles before she excuses herself to go buy another Danish pastry and a cup of coffee. Chuck stares at his sister as she walks towards the counter. Even after all these years, Serena is still unaware of her surroundings. At least four boys and a girl check her out as she walks past, but she doesn’t seem to notice. 

“Hot cashier?” he asks. 

Blair makes a noise. “Hot barista.”

Well, that explains it. 

“You didn’t walk into a wall.”

It’s not a question, because Blair Waldorf does not do questions. “I didn’t walk into a wall,” Chuck admits. 

“Nate kicked you in the face when you tried to give him a blowjob while he was sleeping, right?” 

Chuck looks at Blair with a certain level of respect. He knew the woman was perceptive, but not this perceptive. Then he realizes it could be due to experience, and the gentlemanly side of him emerges, making him angry with Nate. “He’s kicked you in the face before?”

Blair looks at him funny. “Of course not! I don’t do morning blowjobs, you know.”

Chuck is confused. “Then how do you know?”

Blair has the decency to look uncomfortable. “There might have been a threesome with Carter.”

“Carter? As in Carter Baizen?”

“How many Carters do we know?”

Chuck is in shock. He was so sure that Carter Baizen was heterosexual. Like, so heterosexual he would probably cry if he saw someone else’s dick. Then again, he thought that sleeping with Jenny Humphrey was a good idea. “So… so Carter tried to give Nate a morning blowjob and got thumped in the face.”

Blair nods, sipping her coffee. “We were kind of stumped, especially when Nate curled into a ball after that and continued sleeping.”

Chuck thinks of Nate’s reaction yesterday morning. There are startling similarities. “But he doesn’t hate a mouth on his dick, I would know.”

“We’d all know,” Blair says dryly. “Since we’ve all slept with him. He loves a mouth on his dick. He’s just not a morning person.” 

Chuck isn’t a morning person either, but he definitely does not kick the faces of his bed partners when they suck him good morning. “How did he manage to get to school on time?”

Blair shrugs. “I guess his mother threw a bucket of water at him every morning or something. Otherwise, Nate doesn’t really function until eleven or twelve. And if you think about it, there was something off about him in the mornings. He’d trip on non-existent things, he’d say ‘Hi Steve’ to a girl, and there was that time when he brought one of his mom’s potted plants to school because he mistook it for his science project.”

What Blair says is actually true. Nate may be all nice and polite during lunch or dinner, but Chuck has never seen him emerge for breakfast, at least before eleven in the morning. “So what did you do while waiting for him to wake up?”

Blair smiles wryly. “I made breakfast, moved the furniture, watched Oprah reruns… whatever I felt like doing until he woke up.”

Chuck wants to ask Serena about Nate’s morning habits, but then he realizes that Serena isn’t exactly a morning person either. Once she entered the kitchen for breakfast not even knowing her own name. 

: : :

When Chuck gets home Nate greets him in bed, with three fingers moving restlessly in him. There’s a pool of precum on the bed, and Nate’s ridiculous, pretty cock is dripping like it’s out of fashion. 

“Couldn’t wait?” Chuck asks, his voice calm and at odds with the rest of his body. His heart is beating so fast he’s afraid he’ll get a heart attack. 

Nate moans, wriggling his ass in the air. “Wanted to surprise you,” he pants, before gasping. Chuck growls; he knows that gasp, the gasp that means Nate just brushed his prostate. “But I guess I’m not very successful.”

Chuck sits at the edge of the bed, staring at Nate’s slick fingers moving in and out. It’s almost hypnotic. “I’m going to eat you out,” he says softly. “Lick you and bite you until you can’t even remember your name because the only thing you can think of is coming. Cause that’s what you want, isn’t it, you slut?”

Nate’s hips jerk, the rhythm of his fingers gone as he starts straining towards release. He’s making all these ridiculous sounds that makes Chuck want to just rip his pants open, push into that tiny hole and pound him into the mattress. 

When Chuck’s tongue meets his fingers, Nate makes a strangled sound, as if he’s hurt.

“Shhh,” Chuck whispers, slowly pulling Nate’s fingers out and replacing them with his. Nate’s shaking, fingers now clenched in the sheets, ass in the air for Chuck’s taking. “I got you. I got you.”

: : :

He does rim Nate stupid, before proceeding to fuck him even stupider. 

Nate falls asleep in his arms, and Chuck doesn’t want to admit this, but it’s actually pretty nice, this whole cuddling business. 

Tomorrow he’s going to start observing how Nate Archibald survives mornings.

: : :

The answer is simple: Nate Archibald does not survive mornings.

He’s got an eleven o’ clock class, and he’s still asleep at nine thirty when Chuck comes out of the bathroom clean and smelling of Old Spice. So advertising easily influences him, sue him.

“Nate,” he singsongs as he pushes the curtains aside so that bright, glorious sunlight enters the room. “Time to get up.”

Nate makes this confused sound that Chuck interprets as “Why the fuck is there light?” and peeks out of his cocoon of Egyptian cotton, brown hair in a mess and blue eyes bleary. When he sees Chuck next to the window, he glares, betrayed.

“You’ve got classes,” Chuck says, amused. “And you’ve got to get up.”

Nate snarls and turns his back to the window, burrowing himself deeper under the sheets, as if he’d disappear if he went deep enough. Or maybe he wouldn’t have to wake up. 

Chuck shouldn’t find this adorable. He fights the urge to record this and show it to Blair and Serena. 

“C’mon, asshat,” he bellows, walking towards the big ball of Nate and cotton. The ball makes a whining sound and shifts about 0.3 centimetres. “You’re gonna be late for class.”

When Nate doesn’t respond, Chuck sits on the edge of the bed, a hand on what he thinks is Nate’s hip. Maybe sexual favours would work? “I’ll let you suck me if you wake up,” he tries, voice low and sensual, remembering how Nate was gagging for his cock in his mouth. Or ass. Whichever Chuck wanted. “Then I’ll fuck you good.”

Nate mumbles something and Chuck leans in. “What’s that?”

“Not before coffee,” Nate repeats, eyes still tightly shut. 

Chuck laughs. “Alright, so I’ll get you coffee and then you can suck me off. Only if you wake up.”

Nate seems to ignore this deal, until he opens his eyes. They’re unfocused and if Chuck didn’t know better, he’d think Nate was a zombie. “Kay,” Nate agrees, burying his face in the pillow. “Coffee, or no sex,” he repeats. 

Chuck tries his best not to laugh, because Nate appears to be serious. Or half-dead. “You better be up when the coffee comes.”

: : :

Nate isn’t up when Chuck comes back with a mug of steaming coffee, but he does edge out of what seems like a blanket cave, eyes peeking out of the white fabric and eyeing the mug. 

Chuck makes sure he’s far enough that Nate’s got to sit up to reach. “Here’s your coffee.”

Nate’s hand stretches, but he doesn’t sit up. 

This silent battle continues until Nate pouts and begins to bury himself in the sheets again. Chuck quickly moves forward to hand over the coffee, and Nate smiles sweetly at him. 

: : :

They don’t have time for sex. Chuck shoves a drowsy Nate into the bathroom, yanking the coffee mug from his hands.

“Shower sex?” Nate asks, confused.

“No time for sex,” Chuck says, closing the door behind him. 

: : :

Chuck’s in the living room when Nate comes out holding his toothbrush, confused. 

“Tastes funny,” he says. 

Chuck’s about to make a joke about how too much cum has altered his tastebuds, but then he sees what’s on Nate’s toothbrush. 

Oh god.

: : :

“He’s… extremely disoriented,” Chuck tells Blair as he sips his expresso in his office. “It’s kind of scary.”

Blair laughs, her voice blending with the New York traffic in the background. “Well, that’s morning Nate for you,” she says.

“He bumped into the television console  _thrice_.” 

“Well,” Blair says over some honking noise. “Move the console, then.”

: : :

One of the van der Woodsen’s associates is holding a dinner party, so everyone is invited. Chuck bumps into Nate while trying to escape Serena’s slightly neurotic second cousin who tensed every time he said the word “and”, which was a lot. 

Nate is very handsome in his dark blue Prada suit, and Chuck knows that the only way he’d look more handsome is if he’s naked. Chuck also notes that this Nate, the Nate society is used to, is nothing like the feral boy buried under the covers this morning, who would only emerge for coffee and sex. 

It sounds like really bad porn. 

“Chuck,” Nate smiles, looking slightly embarrassed. “Listen, about this morning-”

Chuck waves his hand. “It’s all right, I didn’t really expect us to have sex after the coffee.”

Nate blinks. “Well, it’s not really that,” he says slowly. “I mean I would have loved to have sex.”

Chuck sips his champagne and stands closer to Nate, pretending to dust off some imaginary dirt off his impeccable suit. “I know you would have,” he says, low enough that only the two of them can hear. “You little slut.”

Nate’s inhale is sharp and sweet to his ears. “Fuck,” he breathes. “Don’t say that kind of thing  _here_. And before you continue,” he pushes Chuck away. “I wanted to apologize about how I acted this morning.”

It’s Chuck’s turn to be a little stumped. No, a lot, actually. “It’s okay?” It’s supposed to be reassurance, a statement, but in his confusion – Nate knows how he acts in the morning? – it becomes a question.

Nate scratches his head; a nervous gesture Chuck has seen all his life. “I’m a horrible morning person,” he admits. “I can’t really function before noon. My mom once whacked me with a broom to wake me up.”

Well, since Mrs. Archibald couldn’t lure her son with sexual favours, Chuck figures that would be the second best method. Although he can’t imagine Mrs. Archibald going anywhere near anything that was related to household chores. “You tried getting rid of the habit?”

“Tons of times,” Nate says. “Tried everything and anything, but I guess it’s just a part of me.”

He looks so forlorn and distressed that Chuck says exactly what’s in his mind without filtering his words. “It’s okay, I love you for who you are, anyway.”

Nate looks shocked, and after not saying anything after a few minutes, Chuck’s ready to take back that stupid little confession, sinking heart or no. It’s stupid, anyway; they may have been friends for life but they just started fucking, and maybe it’s a little too early for life-changing revelations. 

Then Nate’s expression turns from shocked to happy to full-blown  _lust_. And a better man might have walked away and continued mingling with the rest because the dinner is only halfway through, but Chuck is not a better man. 

“Fuck,” Nate breathes, biting his lip. “God, you can’t just say things like that and don’t expect me to-”

He can’t even seem to finish his sentences, running a hand through styled hair. Chuck loves it when this happens. He hasn’t seen it enough times – Nate so turned on he can’t think straight. He thinks that he’ll never see enough of this. 

“Guest bedroom, ten minutes,” he orders, and Nate shudders like a bitch in heat. Chuck doesn’t look down,  _can’t_ , because he’ll see Nate’s erection jutting out of tailored pants and he would not be responsible for his actions. 

Nate’s trying to control his breathing, nodding. “Ten minutes.”

: : :

He meets Blair in the middle of the stairs. She takes one look at him and rolls her eyes. 

“You’re going to fuck Nate now?” She asks, incredulous. “It’s not even ten yet. And Serena’s going to dump Mr. Whats-his-face, I know it.”

Chuck shrugs. “He gets to me,” he says simply, as if those four words can make the universe understand this endless need to throw Nate on the bed and ravish him senseless. 

Blair seems to get it though, and Chuck’s not sure if it’s because she’s Blair or because she’s been through what he has, maybe she’s had the urge before too. “Well, I’ll try my best to make sure no one goes up there to prevent any mind-scarring. And whenever you feel like you need someone to watch, you know where to find me.”

Chuck grins at Blair’s sly smile. “Give me two weeks. Oh, and film the breakup for me if you can.”

: : :

“Maybe,” Chuck pants as Nate slams down onto him, trying his best not to just arch and come when that tight heat engulfs him. “Maybe if I fuck you until you black out, your morning issues would be less…less.”

Nate whines, riding Chuck’s cock like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. “Thought,” he gasps as Chuck swivels his hips and hits that spot. “Fuck, right there. Thought that you – fuck,  _Chuck_  – you love me for who I am.”

Chuck trails a hand down Nate’s spine, past the little dent that indicates the beginning of his ass and traces the rim of Nate’s currently stuffed hole. Nate writhes, grabbing his shoulders, sensitive. “Well,” he groans as he mouths Nate’s jaw, relishing in the clean skin and hoping that tomorrow there’ll be marks, marks of ownership, telling the world that Nate is his. “It’ll be better for you, baby.”

Nate stiffens and lets out the most sensual moan as he spurts between them, all over Chuck’s stomach and his own abs. “Fuck, fuck,” he whispers, grinding down hard, trying to get Chuck’s cock to hit exactly where he wants to prolong the pleasure.

Chuck pushes up, angles perfectly, and Nate shouts, head tilted back. “You like that, sweetheart?” he whispers, smiling when Nate jerks in his hands. “Like it when I call you all kinds of pet names? Or when I call you a slut, hmmm? Which one do you prefer?”

Nate makes this garbled noise that could be “Fuck you,” or “Fuck yes,” Chuck’s not very sure. So he fondles Nate’s balls, ignoring how Nate tries to pull away and the way Nate tightens around him, and says, “My desperate little whore.”

When Nate gasps and his cock twitches and starts spurting whatever’s left in Nate’s balls, Chuck feels satisfied, and finally gives in the urge to come. 

: : :

Nate’s always half-dead after sex, so Chuck has to dress him back into his suit and support him down the stairs, hoping that no one will notice how they were gone for at least an hour. 

Everyone is still mingling around and chatting, murmured conversation only a little louder than the soothing jazz music in the background. They’re all in their own little worlds, just like how most Upper East Siders always are, Chuck thinks. 

Blair, ever the alert and knowing woman that she is, spots them from across the room, and tugs Serena away from the loser of a boyfriend she has, walking towards them.

Serena’s protesting about how she was preparing to dump him with that speech she was giving him, when she sees Nate and Chuck and her eyes widen. “You had sex in my house?” she hisses. 

“The guest bedroom,” Chuck says quickly. “And I stripped the bed.”

Serena looks at Nate’s happy, yet almost unconscious face. “I don’t know if I should be disgusted or turned on.”

Blair snorts. “Please, like you aren’t as whorish as they are.”

Serena blushes, about to protest, but then Nate whines and tucks his head in the crook of Chuck’s neck. “No more,” he pleads, garbled.

Blair raises an eyebrow, but Serena seems to know where this is going. “You discovered his fondness for being called a slut.”

Nate whines again. 

“Why do I keep on dating all these weird people,” Blair mutters. 

Serena looks amazed. “You didn’t know about his kink?”

Blair snorts. “I knew about the bondage thing, yes, but not the slut thing.”

Nate looks like he’s going to faint, so Chuck interrupts the banter, as much as he’d love to know all of Nate’s kinks. “I need a cab.”

“I’ll call you one. Oh, and Mom bought those pastries you guys love, I’ll go get you a box.” Serena says, rushing off. Chuck thinks that she’ll practice her dumping speech while packing the pastries, because that’s what Serena does.

Blair just stares at the two of them, and Chuck feels a little uncomfortable. It’s not the terrifying “I will bring you down you stupid ho” stare, but it’s a stare nonetheless.

“Seriously,” she finally says. “Call me.”

: : :

Chuck falls asleep with Nate clinging to him like an octopus. 

The next morning, he wakes up, makes coffee and moves the television console to a part of the room where Nate might not wander in. Then he reads the paper from front to back, before pouring two cups of coffee. He finishes one in the kitchen and brings one to the room, where Nate has apparently decided that he and the pillow are one.

“Nate,” he smiles, putting the cup down on the bedside table. “It’s morning.”

When Nate doesn’t move, he walks to the curtains and fling them open.

Nate makes the exact sound that he did yesterday and glares at Chuck, betrayed, before turning away and curling into himself.

Chuck laughs, sitting next to the ball of Nate and cotton. It’s going to be a daily ritual, he just knows it. He’s Chuck Bass. “I got you coffee, baby,” he whispers, and Nate wriggles. 

It takes Nate five minutes to process this information before he looks up at Chuck, blue eyes dazed and face grouchy. “’S early,” he grumbles.

“Not really,” Chuck smiles. “It’s ten thirty.”

Nate makes a face. “Early.”

“Come on, hmmm?” Chuck coaxed, threading his fingers through Nate’s hair. He arches up into the touch like a satisfied cat and closes his eyes. Oh no, this will not do. “Coffee then sex, yeah, sweetheart?”

Nate whines and snuggles into Chuck. “Five minutes.”

Well, he supposes this is progress. 

: : :

Nate drinks up his coffee, and they have time for Chuck to slide in his fingers into Nate, hole still loose from yesterday and insides still wet with lube and come. Nate comes shuddering in Chuck’s arms, clutching his beloved sheets, mewling as Chuck whispers “baby” and “love” and “darling”, because it’s a little to early for “slut” and “whore”. 

Chuck shoves Nate into the bathroom and makes sure he uses the toothpaste. Then he goes to the living room and makes sure that there is a proper path for Nate to walk without stumbling into furniture. 

When Nate walks towards the kitchen, still a little confused, he bumps into the sofa. Chuck takes note of the offending piece of furniture. He’ll probably move it somewhere to the left.

It’s going to take a lot of changes – Nate fumbles with the cereal bowl long enough for Chuck to panic. How did he not notice all of this – but Chuck’s pretty sure they’ll get through. And it’s worth it, watching Nate kind of stuff cereal in his mouth but half of it drops back into the down because he’s not chewing properly and looks like a pissed off two-year-old. It’s worth it when it’s closer to noon and Nate starts showing signs of life and he looks at Chuck with bright, thankful blue eyes and kisses him and says, “I love you.”


End file.
